turned, and
with dragging feet made his way down Dust Bin's single street toward
Government House.

In a few minutes he was standing in the cool, air conditioned living
room of the Wilsons. Wilson was seated at his desk rummaging through
some papers while Norris and Mrs. Wilson were lounging in contour
chairs admiring each other over tall, frosty drinks.

They took the news just as he expected them to. Wilson ran his hand
through his sparse, gray hair and murmured something about it being a
shame to have to leave the natives on their own after having more or
less dragged them out of their comfortable swamps. A glance from his
wife silenced him.

"What the hell," Norris said, "they're only blasted thick witted
Greenbacks."

Mrs. Wilson yawned, "It'll be something of a bother packing but it'll
certainly be a pleasure to get back to New Chicago. Some women's
husbands get good posts in half-way civilized parts of the Universe. I
don't know why I should always have to be stuck in every backwater,
hick town there is."

Wilson smiled apologetically, "Now, dear...." he began but was
interrupted by the sudden ringing of the telephone on the table near
Norris' chair.

"Get that, will you, O'Mara?" the captain said, making no attempt to
reach for it, "It's probably the Command Post."

Terrence put the phone to his ear angrily and growled into it. An
excited Bill Fielding was on the line. "Terry? Is that you? Fielding
here. Hell's breaking loose. There's a bunch of blasted Rumi trying to
force their way into town. They attacked the sentries down this way
and may be heading for your end of town too."

Terrence dropped the phone and headed for the door. "_Rumi!_" he
shouted and there were shouts and cries from outside in answer. Then
he heard the clack, clack, clack of Rumi spring guns. Windows of the
room crashed in and Wilson collapsed across his desk. Norton grabbed
Mrs. Wilson and pulled her down onto the floor. Terrence dropped to
his hands and knees and continued toward the door as he drew his
forty-five.

* * * * *

Somewhere, someone had cut loose with a Banning and its high whine
drowned out the clack of the spring guns. With a quick look around,
Terrence started at a run for the next building which was the native
schoolhouse. He didn't make it. There was a clack, clack from off to
his left and he threw himself forward, skidding and sliding in the
dust and gravel of the street.